“There are people who make things happen, there are people who watch things happen, and there are people who wonder what happened. To be successful, you need to be a person who makes things happen.”
The world moves around me like a cosmic vat of fragmented debris. My mind requires stimulation and challenges to avoid death by boredom. Television and films have become stagnant of purpose and risk while auteurs struggle to exist.
Music venues have elevated ticket prices to audacious amounts while strangling artists’ abilities to remain lucrative and remain devoid of creativity or taking risks. Boring arena tours with overpriced meet and greets are the norm. Aging has been artists who are echoing their past to the allegiant fans stuck in a proverbial timewarp feels like a money subterfuge.
Stripper anthems and rapper idioms are proven profit makers exacerbating the dumbification of our floundering society. Venues are serving corporate conglomerate beers, soft drinks, and processed foods to aid in declining the health of the patrons while posting adverts for medical centers and pharmaceuticals to help pay the bills.
Why I Suck
I’ve no desire to follow the masses. I’m currently fighting with my blog’s AI SEO algorithms telling me my article currently sucks. I’d guess the algorithm was written by tracking the top 1,000 keywords utilized by top publication rags a clickbait.
As I ponder my future as a successful writer I’m researching some titles I feel are sheerly brilliant that could titillate the herd.
7 Ways Gordon Ramsey Can Teach You Emotional Intelligence
How Lindsay Lohan Excels at Defensive Driving Skills
How Vanilla Ice Can Teach You To Understand Copyright Laws and Write a Hit Song
9 Ways to Find Love…Again By Studying Zsa Zsa Gabor
and the list goes on
Save The Brain Cells
As I work to keep the neurons of my brain enriched by stimulating it with art, well-articulated literature and scientific studies I’ve recognized our societies lacking in autodidacticism. It’s doubtful I’ll gain much traction with this quintessential diatribe of creative expression but I’m certain every time I reread it I’ll giggle to myself on how profound exercising the brain really is. And the fact many will need a dictionary to fucking read it.
“The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche
It’s lonely in here. My mind races with thoughts and concepts I struggle to explain. Creative ideas take a number hoping to be next in line, a sold-out show it’s standing room only.
A sense of belonging could be warm and comforting if the connection were real and the dialogue reciprocal. It’s the few that understand, those who bend light and medium to create the imaginative. The grandiose experience.
We feel they are odd, strange and disconnected. Yet it appears we are all engaged with the electronic impulses that energize our flow. Colors and sounds, molten and dark. The embers of creativity fueled by inspiration. Words become paintings and noise becomes art. As we reimagine this dismal place a stomping ground of self-expression.
The rhythm of prose a collection of exacting words, painting the foreground of our creativity. Crazy, wacky, odd and weird, we find solace in our medium. Our emotions left on the canvas as we nakedly shy away, bizarre and antisocial.
Crowds praise and encourage us while we secretly cower in fear. Not to be judged only to be misunderstood.
“ Art and life really are the same, and both can only be about a spiritual journey, a path towards a re-union with a supreme creator, with god, with the divine; and this is true no matter how unlikely, how strange, how unorthodox, one’s particular life path might appear to one’s self or others at any given moment.”
We chose who we are and represent ourselves often poorly. Not feeling complete within ourselves we need to express ourselves outwardly. The sounds of our creativity speak volumes in our minds yet sound hollow to the ears of the status quo.
What aspect do others understand we do not know. However, our intellect and judgment is only encouraged by those who understand.
Trivial matters pain me as I lose irreplaceable time. Infuriated as I see the wasted days fade, filed as history. Tomorrow I shall overcome, stepping out into the light and embrace my struggle to be the only thing that matters. Me.
Searching and learning is where the miracle process all begins.
You are what you eat and you are who you associate with.
In our lives, we have all forged many relationships based on the circumstances in which we are currently involved. Often these relationships carry on into other aspects of our lives, however, often once the connection is lost, so is the relationship.
I’ve moved on from many a relationship as the connections have diminished. Conversations will be mindless talks about the weather or the past. I can count on one hand the friendships that I still have from high school. Most of those connections weren’t really real and I’ve moved on.
With each new phase of my life and as I explore and expand, the importance of material possessions or accomplishments matter less and less. Emotions and self-expression are more important to me than ever.
Historians bore me if they are living in the past and can’t correlate to the present day. Statisticians are equally humdrum if the stats are the regurgitation of other people’s lives. These aren’t risk-takers, they are averse to taking a risk and therefore boring.
Art Is Life
Most of my greatest friends are creatives. They have painted paintings, written books, molded iron and performed on stage. They have ducked out of social events and forgotten to eat. Lost in their creative conscious creating their art and sharing it with the world.
For us to be creative we need to be inspired as well as in touch with our own thoughts. We work to express ourselves by stepping out into the unknown and taking a chance. Creatives are not judged by their peers, they are judged by those that lack creativity.
“Definition of rock journalism: People who can’t write, doing interviews with people who can’t think, in order to prepare articles for people who can’t read.”
Years ago I remember meeting a fellow musician on a horse farm who would become my boss, neighbor, and mentor. I started working on the farm and within a few weeks, I moved into my first apartment below the barn manager. He saw me lugging in used furniture, clothing and tons of musical equipment and ran over to help.
“I didn’t realize you were a musician,” he said. “I’m not really, more of a knob turner. Sort of an engineer type.” He replied, “Just like Zappa.”
“Huh, isn’t Zappa a musician?”, I replied. “Yes and so much more,” he said in response.
And down that slippery slope I slide into this new world of engineering, sound design, and creativity.
Every evening after work we would listen to each other’s favorite music and make connections. My beloved Steve Vai had first worked with Zappa having transcribed a ridiculously difficult piece called The Black Page.
He would teach me guitar licks and I would record his. As I learned more about studio trickery I would introduce new and enlightening techniques to the recordings.
Seeing it all come to life
We would head to The Stony Pony to catch Frank Marino and the Mahogany Rush or The Ritz for some Dweezil Zappa.
St. Mark’s Place was a favorite as we would dig through old vinyl hoping to expand our collections and experience new finds. Every modern contemporary my mentor would show me had been inspired by previous works. It was those older works he would encourage me to buy.
You can’t understand Punk if you don’t understand Rock. Rock won’t matter until you learn the Blues. Jazz….you need to understand it all. Mingus, Coltrane, Zappa. They all did Jazz.
Own Your Own Studio
Zappa, Prince, Reznor, and Vai. They all had their own studios. Eno studio is inside his home. A lair for mad scientists as they cross-pollinate new ideas with stolen ones. Stepping further out away from the securities of the status quo. This is where true creativity happens.
My personal studio space is exactly that. Mine and personal. It consists of a culmination of equipment and motivation that allows me to work on my art.
As of late, that has been writing. I really would call it creative writing since I’m not a writer yet I have used it as a creative way to outlet self-expression. With the large volume of articles, I’ve produced the reality hits me on the head frequently (or others remind me) that in fact, I am a writer.
Sources of Inspiration
I’m inspired everywhere I look. Nature inspires me, books inspire me, art inspires me but most of all creative people inspire me. I have hundreds of creative friends that are constantly pushing the envelope expressing themselves. Placing themselves out there, often vulnerable and afraid. It’s with the understanding of how they are feeling that we can respond and provide the security and acceptance of their fears. The fear of being misunderstood.
Artists understand artists and creatives are artists. Shaping the words we read and the images that we see as we embrace the art we love we are embracing the artist for exposing themselves to us so we can attempt to understand.
When I experience new works of art it sparks my creative juices as I become inspired to create. Be it through sound compositions, written text, photographer or just conversation, I love to experience new works and learn from the creators.
Learning About Process
When speaking to creatives I’ll always migrate the conversation towards the process. I’m not actually talking specifically about technique but the creative process. How does an actor fill a roll or how is a sculpture metastasize into a three-dimensional art form? The mind of a creative is the birthplace of all creations. Before pen hits paper or fingers hit keys, the creative mind needs to get into the moment.
Some artists read poetry or listen to music while creating. Others need to experience death or drudgery before they can express dark emotions. So when you place yourself into this sphere of creativity and self-expression, the concepts and knowledge will become a lifeform that will allow you to expand your own craft.
Listening to music I hear ballet, war or disparity. Paintings expose nakedness, sadness, and conjecture. Books expose insecurities and honesty. Photography freezes reality into dreamlike states.
When I’m with creatives I’m on fire, as my speech speeds up and my heart will race. Art is the purest form of self-expression and development. Find your art and find the creatives and your life will take on a new form.
Chelsea is a neighborhood in New York City which is home to a vibrant community of creatives. With a huge stock of art galleries, brownstones, and old industrial buildings Chelsea has been a destination for artists, writers, and musicians for over 100 years.
One of the most prominent buildings in Chelsea’s creative enclave is the Chelsea Hotel. Built-in 1885 on New York’s 23rd Street is the red brick 250 unit hotel building which stands 12 stories tall and was one of the first buildings constructed to become private Co-op apartments in New York City. A utopia for creatives and work class alike the co-op would share in utilities and amenities to conserve costs.
In 1905 the co-op went bankrupt and the building was converted into a luxury hotel that attracted many famous guests. In the post-war ’40s into the ’50s the hotel was showing its age and room rates dropped. The hotel continued to attract the likes of Jackson Pollack and Dylan Thomas who spent his final days living in room #205 of the Chelsea while sickly and on a drinking binge. He died while in a coma in the local St. Vincent’s hospital.
The Chelsea Hotel describes itself as “a rest stop for rare individuals,” a euphemism that still manages to pass the truth-in-advertising test if you take “rare individuals” to mean artists and addicts, and rest stop to mean possible death. Legends of The Chelsea Hotel
Pulitzer Prize-winning Arthur Miller moved into apartment #614 after his divorce with Marilyn Monroe.
Leonard Cohen wrote “Chelsea Hotel #2” after his romantic encounters with Janis Joplin in room #415. He lived in room #424.
Bob Dylan stayed in room #211 while he wrote the song “Sara” for his first wife.
Sex Pistols Sid Vicious stabbed his girlfriend Nancy Spungen in room #100.
Club Kid Christina lived and died in room #323. Her body was discovered 5 days after her death.
Andy Warhol film The Chelsea Girls in room #442
Jon Bon Jovi wrote the song and filmed the music video for “Midnight at the Chelsea” in room #515
Madonna took the photographs for her book “Sex” in room #822
Writer Thomas Wolfe spent the last few years of his life in room #829
Patti Smith lived in room #1017 with Photographer Robert Mapplethorpe
Arthur C. Clarke wrote 2001: A Space Odyssey
William Burroughs wrote The Third Mindand Naked Lunch
Arthur Miller wrote After the Fall
Dylan Thomas wrote Under Milk Wood
Yves Klein wrote his Chelsea Hotel Manifesto
Joseph O’Neill wrote Netherland
Thomas Wolfe wrote You Can’t Go Home Again
If Walls Could Talk
The walls of the Chelsea Hotel were adorned with original photographs and paintings by many famous artists. In the later years, the hotel functioned as an artist flophouse as the rent was often paid with artworks. Stanley Bard was the hotel’s manager known to be lax on rents allowed artists to live and create often for years.
Drunk or high Chelsea’s occupants would stumble through her hallways, hiding from their own realities. The walls having witnessed brilliant talents and agonizing pain.
A Renewed Life
The Chelsea Hotel was purchased in 2011 for $80 million by the real-estate developer Joseph Chetrit and stopped taking room reservations on August 1, 2011. Long term residents were allowed to stay during the renovations as many were protected by rent control laws, however, the construction made the building a health hazard and many residents were forced to move out.
While protected by Landmarks of New York one would hope the fabric and spirit of the Chelsea will remain. Sadly the juxtaposition of the arts and environment has sadly died with the closure of the building and the redevelopment is certain to keep out the artists and writers that made her famous.
Okay, this article is going to be a bit of a wild ride as I try to decipher how long I could or even would want to survive in a Post-apocalyptic world. I’m not going to make reference to what will actually cause said apocalypse as I don’t want to waste my creative process on the potential vulnerabilities of our existence. So let’s just assume the apocalypse has happened and it’s a shit show.
Okay so before you call me a dark and dismal dinkis let’s review some pretty harsh statistical realities. In the 19th century, there wasn’t any Country that had a life expectancy of over 40 years of age. Most people lived poorly, lacked medical knowledge and understanding of diseases.
Over the next hundred-odd years advancements in science, medicine and technology have almost doubled most of the World’s life expectancy. By the use of vaccinations, sterilization, surgical technologies, and preemptive medicine most populations are living longer than their ancestors.
Why I’m a Baby
Okay so before I single-handedly end modern civilaztion let me first discuss my absolute needs and explain why I’m a snob.
Every morning I wake up and eat a banana with my Good Seed toast with an avocado spread sprinkled lightly with Himalayan sea salt. My morning coffee I make with 100bpercent Arabica bean espresso roast I freshly ground and make into an Oat Milk latte.
Alright, I’m a snob and I can admit it. Anyhow, I digress. Where are the closest banana trees, coffee trees, avocado trees, Himalayan sea in the Northeast of America? You guessed it on the shelves in our stores. But where are they grown? Thousands of miles away.
Burning it Down, We Are All Gonna Die
Okay now let’s blow this shit up. A plague begins killing everyone as wildfires smoke out our atmosphere minimizing natural daylight. Our fiat money system collapses and fossil fuels are at a premium. Sort of like Madmax meets Children of Men.
Let’s just say our beloved iPhones and Alexa’s no longer function. When was the last time you looked at a paper map? How the hell do you put on a tourniquet and better yet how the hell do you even spell it without spell check?
Where do you get clean water from? How do you start a fire (no dipshit the answer isn’t a Zippo.) In all seriousness how will we survive without Charmin and hand sanitizer?
Okay, cue the godforsaken preppers and the bugout baggers. With basements stocked with irradiated water, canned turnips, and fucking Twinkies.
I would rather just die. Just to be clear I love life, my life, others’ lives, etc etc. I have the greatest respect for my life and daily do my best to maximize life’s experiences.
Okay back to the shit show. No social media, no nighttime news, as we have to resort back to morse code and smoke signals. What would this new world be like? What would we eat and how can we make our own version of Cheez Whiz?
So if you’re still following here the future without our modern conveniences of fresh food, heat, and shelter is ever so scary. So why the hell do we treat it all with complete disrespect?
Why do we insist on wasting the Earth’s natural resources? Do we really need all the plastic crap we purchase? I can guarantee in the Great Apocalypse we won’t be walking through Hobby Lobby’s and Michael’s stores in a quest for survival.
What are you going to carry in your survival backpack? A stack of Solo cups and plastic forks, or washable and sterilizable dishware and utensils.
How will you boil the river water you’ll need to drink. What about your adapting to a nomadic or agrarian lifestyle?
Save Our Planet
Without my morning coffee, I’m a miserable bastard, and if I go without my banana and avocado toast, my stomach growls. It’s with absolute confidence I’m certain it would only be a matter of days in the Post Apocalyptic world before I’d be voting myself off the island.
As I look at the life I currently live and the fruits of our Earth I enjoy I force myself to question where I can reduce waste and minimize my carbon footprint. For I’m certain I can not adjust to Post Apocalyptic life and so, therefore, I’ll need to figure out how to adapt to a sustainable present life.
The Chinese proverb “One picture is worth ten thousand words” in reality wasn’t a Chinese proverb at all. The phrase has been modified and misrepresented over the past hundred years in marketing campaigns and advertisements. However, if you stare closely at a well-taken photograph your imagination can run amuck as you fabricate the narrative.
Earlier this year I was challenged by a friend of mine to write an original Haiku per day for 100 days. We were both successful and we are separately each working on a self-published Haiku book with 100 original Haiku along with 100 original photographs.
With absolutely no experience nor qualifications to actually write one poem with any level of quality, I had to cheat. As plagiarism is not my style I decide to write to a visual and that visual was one of the thousands of photographs taking up space in my iPhone. When I was writing I would look into my photos and find an inspiring image and begin to write.
The words would begin to flow easily as I was just telling a story while attempting to focus on the 5-7-5 syllable rules. My creativity increased as I began to see Haiku in everything and I experimented more not only with my words but also my photography.
While I worked on my poems I began to develop and understand the rhythm that makes our world function. Our breathing, heartbeat, and each step we take, a rhythmic sequence. I attempted to capture the inner nuances within the image as my imagination would run wild.
After completing 100 original Haiku, my creativity was in overload. A new challenge was required that could fuel my desire to write while expanding on my photography. Without any actual requirements on the article topics, duration and purpose I decided to write about my passions for sound, design, learning and self-improvement. Leaving the door open to essential ramble on about any topic of interest I needed to hone myself into a lane and kind of stay there.
The challenge was to now each write 100 articles in 100 days. Certainly, a lot more work than 17 syllables, as we needed to have a sense of structure and conclusion. 24 hours to conjure up an original concept, write, edit and publish as we decided our vulnerability would exhume honest and pure writing.
My decision again to write to images that I already had acquired was helpful in saving time and keeping on task. My decided style would be writing in prose based on actual life events while attempting to be clear, concise and direct. Some days I would be serious and businesslike in my writing as other times I would be a bit more abstract and whimsical.
As I’d scroll through my phone I’d search for the best images I had taken. Images that had a builtin narrative I could expeditiously extract and attempt to detail. Often I would spend my time on details I felt were an expansion on the sense of sight as I’d explain sounds, tastes or smells.
My writing based on my recollection of the experience and the emotion I felt while being captured at that moment. The photo is merely a frozen fragment of time, captured in a split second, a story that can change in the blink of an eye or the click of the shutter.
Ode to Film
I’m only halfway through my narrative writing project as my creative juices continue to flow and I embrace the challenge. With the finish line in sight, I’ve been contemplating my next advances in the realm of creativity and self-discovery. My mind is replaying the sheer brilliance of my favorite films.
With 24 frames of images per second and the average feature film having a 90-minute duration the potential for a filmmaker to tell his tales dwarfs those of the photographer. 12,960 individual visual opportunities to mold a story and develop characters I find my love is for films that leave the narrative up to the individual viewer’s imagination. Filmmakers such as Lynch, Kubrick, Fincher, and Aronofsky have all made contemporary films discussed and debated by film aficionados.
Storylines and characters that are mysterious and intriguing yet believable. My favorite films such as Shudder Island, The Shining, Mulholland Drive and Pi have me constantly questioning what I believed to be true and what is left up to the viewer’s interpretation.
The Book Is Always Better
So why is it the book is always better than the film? The imagination of the reader would be my best guess. We would assume the writer was clear and definitive as they wrote the details into their literary piece. The threads of the fabric woven together to hopefully leave just enough uncertainty that allows our creative minds to race.
Did the author have a visual? Why have so many great writers traveled and lived in unique and interesting places? For inspiration, experience and the visual, I’d venture to guess.
So if you’re looking to expand your creativity in your writing and storytelling try using a visual. A still image locked in your mind’s time machine. A fragment of sand in father times eye. Visualize, photograph and write.
Within the past year, I’ve traveled to New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Tampa, Orlando, St. Petersburgh, Jersey City, and Pittsburgh. With New York ranking the largest city based on population at 8,601,186 and a density of 11,056 people per sq km most other US cities are substantially less densely populated.
Traveling to a multitude of cities within a one year period allowed me to witness the massive growth and revitalization of the urban environment. By increasing the density of a city, public transportation, infrastructure requirements, and availability of jobs is increased.
With an active expansion of mixed-use redevelopment projects, an increase in the construction of green–building and an expansion of the gig/ freelance economy there has never been a better time to live in a modern urban setting.
With the speed and saturation of internet-based business models, the modern workforce in the tech, design, creative sectors has the opportunity to work in non-traditional office settings. With a flexible workforce and businesses that have stepped up to the modern business platform such as We Work to allow for temporary office spaces, conference rooms, and amenities that allow businesses to remain agile.
Young educated professional workers have modified what is a priority as wages have remained stagnant while costs of living and debt are on the rise. Flexibility of a city environment always workers to jump from low paying service jobs to better paying freelance gigs. As we’ve reduced the need for ownership and stocking of large quantities of personal possessions offset by the ability to rent cars, scooters, clothing and real estate on a short term temporary basis our space requirements are reducing.
Working in certain markets allows the flexibility to deviate from the traditional 9-5 job and allow a concentration on quality of life.
Not following in the footsteps of our parents, we are trading in garages and lawnmowers for pilates and cafe lattes.
Money can be earned easily with as little as an internet connection and a basic computer. Living in a modern urban setting has many perks of cultural diversity, large varieties of resturants, clothing stores and services such as laundry and grocery delivery.
Most large cities have designated an area for outdoor craft and farmers markets the brings farm-fresh items in the urban setting.
Traveling around cities such as Boston and New York is relatively easy with the sheer magnitude of transportation options such as buses, cabs, Uber and Lyft, subways, scooters and best of all on foot.
As we move closer to close the gap on environmental issues of suburban sprawl and recognize the damaging effects of tract homes, manicured lawns, and populated highways, urban-dwelling becomes a wiser choice. As we deplete the supply of artificially inexpensive fossil fuels we will be forced to devise aggressive plans to revitalize urban sects to create increased density required to minimize waste and maximize our infrastructure.
As the world moves closer to AI taking over medial tasks, their will be a necessary reduction in workforce that will assumably reduce wages and the amount of required jobs.
As we race towards the downward spiral, we will need to reevaluate the needs of the excess waste in housing sizes, travel distances to jobs and goods and services.
Daily I‘m working towards expanding my ability to generate a passive income stream form various business ventures. While clearly uncertain which model will become the most sustainable and lucrative, I continue to ponder the concept.
Our world is a connected place, every individual person is a blip on the World radar moving about in a common cosmic universe. Experiences are influenced by our emotions based on the present time and space.
Rereading a book or listening to a favorite song can often invoke feelings and emotions from past experiences as we can transcend backward in time. Based on your present mood and level of focus the revisit can unearth new discoveries and connections often unheard or unread. We will frequently find new meaning and understanding as we have expanded our knowledge through experiences and personal growth.
What variable in time discrepancy offsets the fabric of connection?Where exactly is the wrinkle in time that creates the missed connection? Decisions we make writes not only our history but the history of others. Inclusion in situations influence the course of others lives and more often than not purely by happenstance.
Fragments of data I’ll file into my mental memory banks stored like a scientists notes. Compartmentalizing content I’ll keep the metadata available for future exploration and hope the content will expand in concrete understanding.
As I mature and maintain positive forward motion looking back only to see progress and a refusal to dwell on the past, I comfort new discovery. New experiences map a new and unique future guiding me to another space and time.
My interests in music, film, sound and design are now almost a circadian rhythm of connections as I’m close to closing the infinite loop. What’s new is frequently old, a fusion of old concepts rediscovered and reborn into a new being.
As I walk around expanding my connection to nature I’ll often recognize I’m on hallowed ground. Prior to the creation of a sub development in a suburban town, the land was a tree farm, prior to that forest and a Battleground of the Revolutionary War and prior to that home to the Lenape Indians. We are only separated by time as space or place is remains consistent.
Only through conversation and discovery do we unearth the individual fibers used to weave the pattern of our existence. Only with an open mind and exploratory mindset can we expand our horizons to absorb new discoveries. We shall never stop learning nor discovering. Reading, writing and photographing fragments of time are only missed connections unless we defragment our data-dumps into buckets of commonality and make connections.
Patterns will emerge as we better understand our minds content. As we cleanse our minds of junk files, the reactions of others or our superfluous content allowing room to fill the void of self discovery and conscious understanding.
Freedom to create, design and experience. To use our own connections to expand our minds and our lives and share with others to change their experiences in the fragment of time.
Normalcy and normal people bore me. I’ll glaze over during monotonous dribble of conversation as people will often tell me the things they are going to do. I’ll yawn and think about pairing my socks. Actually, I don’t even pair my socks as that’s boring too. My latest quest would be to own 10 pairs of unique socks that I care to wear as the mood strikes me and certainly easy to pair.
I can generally entertain conversations based on what people have done if they’ve actually done something. Ironically most people haven’t done anything. Sold a bill of goods by mass marketing and propaganda I find many people are living a life curated by their parents, who were curated by their parents who were curated by… nobody cares.
Shallow existences hidden behind suburban homes with white pickets fences (do people still put up picket fences or do they now hide behind privacy fences.) Boring cookie-cutter homes built conveniently close to cookie–cutter shopping. The same boring place, town after town, state after state.
Excessive consumerism has modeled a fallacious facade hidden behind limited choices and repetition of the same old same old. I can hardly walk through a mall or big box store without becoming bored and disengaged. The same crap lining the shelves regardless of the corporate brand. Safe, secure and I’d assume maximized profits.
Critics no longer are critics and reviewers no longer reviewers. Seemingly just puppets marching in step behind the next payday. I never really feel th sincerity of the review. Lacking passion and conviction.
Recently I’ve been reading a lot more, which in turn has inspired my writing. It pains me as I follow certain writers, having found a lucrative payday and stick to a lane we know isn’t actually real. A path I refuse to take I’ll write based on my current mood, reread briefly and hit publish.
Metrics and metering mean nothing and general acceptance possibly less. My charge comes from my volumes of work based purely on self-expression. I create mostly for myself and therefore mainstream acceptance isn’t required nor desired.
I’ve never fit in anywhere, always the odd duck with nicknames like Weird Mike. Kept at arm‘s length for fear my oddities might be contagious.
I feel warm and complete in the outside world, surrounded by the outsiders. The artists, poets, and painters. Those that take risks, the ones who say fuck it. The ones who sit alone on a bus praying no-one takes the seat next to them. Mortally in fear of the pressure of small talk.
I seek pleasure in the eccentric, the independent, the extreme.
My favorite music, films, and art are often viewed as avant-garde, experimental and unique. All of which have multitudes of layers only discovered after continuous revisiting and review.
“I think it’s terribly dangerous for an artist to fulfill other people’s expectations. If you feel safe in the area that you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting”. David Bowie
Daily I write and for the most part daily I’m rejected. I’m uncertain if what I write is pure slop or am I unearthing another unique version of me. What I can say with all certainty is for the few that get it, that reward is immense.